A Month Bought in Ink

“If the Balance takes him tomorrow, your claim becomes worth nothing,” I said.

Merrit looked at the folded receipt in his hand. “Then we’d better reach him today.”

Senn had already turned toward the Temple’s east doors. “The queue’s in the lower hall. They’ve posted the names.”

Neris kept pace beside me, her jaw set. Dask followed two steps behind, dragged by the hook I had sunk into his soul. He could resist with his face and his silence. His feet remained mine to direct.

The lower hall had a red board listing tomorrow’s assessments. A clerk had marked Teren Vask’s name with a black line. The man himself stood under it, holding a narrow metal case against his chest. His clothes smelled of machine oil. A brass brace kept his left wrist straight.

He looked at my group, then at Dask. “You’re here to collect?”

“I’m here to acquire the claim.”

“Same thing, if I can’t pay.”

“Not quite.” I gave him time to wonder which distinction mattered.

Teren’s gaze settled on Neris. “You’re his family?”

“She is irrelevant to your account,” I said.

His mouth tightened. He had learned enough about creditors to distrust answers that arrived too quickly.

Pell waited at the registrar’s counter with a stack of sealed files. He saw Dask, then the red board’s reflected mark on my face. “The original instrument is held in account storage. Your collection authority gives you no access to the registered claims.”

“I know. Dask is assigning this claim to me.”

“Then I’ll need his endorsement, the original, and the arrears deposit. The assessment is scheduled at first bell tomorrow. Three crowns will stay it for thirty days. The principal remains due to the new holder.”

Three crowns. A clean price for time, recorded in a room where time was routinely sold by the year.

Dask’s lips moved. “You can’t transfer a claim I haven’t chosen to sell.”

I put two fingers against his wrist. His soul answered before his hand did. He took the pen from the clerk.

Pell watched the movement closely. “You’ll sign voluntarily?”

“I’ll sign,” Dask said.

Pell’s gaze held on him for a moment. He had evidence enough to be suspicious and no useful way to make suspicion into a ruling. “Proceed.”

The clerk brought out Teren’s original claim. Its paper was darkened along the edges where years of handling had rubbed away the temple seal. The balance showed twelve crowns outstanding. Teren had missed the last installment. The Temple would take the collateral at assessment, then take the remainder of him if the collateral failed to cover the debt.